He’s sprawled on a beat-up leather couch in the back room of a Braddock brewery he helped save a decade ago, hoodie zipped halfway, Carhartt beanie pulled low, size-16 sneakers the size of small canoes kicked up on a coffee table made from reclaimed steel. At 56, John Fetterman still looks like the guy who rolled into the Senate in shorts and a hoodie, except the beard’s gone salt-and-pepper and the left arm moves a little slower since the stroke. A plate of pierogies sits half-eaten beside a Diet Coke the size of a fire extinguisher.
We agreed: 20 questions, keep politics light, focus on the human stuff. He grins, cracks his neck.
“Fire away. Just don’t ask me to pronounce ‘specificity’ on the first try.”
Q1 You had a massive stroke in May 2022, came back to the Senate six months later. How’s the recovery really going in 2025?
Honestly? 95 % there. Auditory processing still glitches if I’m tired—words blur like bad closed-captioning. But I lift, I box, I chase the kids. Doctors say I’m a medical unicorn.
Q2 You live in a converted car dealership in Braddock with Gisele and the three kids. Still no plans to move to D.C.?
Never. Braddock is home. We turned the showroom into a basketball court. Kids think the Capitol is just “Dad’s boring office.” I fly in, vote, fly out. Works.
Q3 You’ve got Karl (11), Grace (9), and August (6). Best dad hack you’ve discovered?
Let them win at Mario Kart exactly 40 % of the time. Keeps them cocky but humble. Also, I’m the human jungle gym—stroke arm’s weaker, but the right one can still deadlift August and a backpack.
Q4 You met Gisele in 2007 when she sent you a letter about Braddock. What did the letter actually say?
Basically: “Your town looks like shit, here’s how to fix it.” I was mayor, offended for five seconds, then realised she was 100 % right. Married her a year later.
Q5 You still drive that 2006 Dodge Grand Caravan with 240,000 miles?
Hell yes. Manual windows, no Bluetooth, cassette deck. Kids think it’s a time machine. I only upgraded the sound system so I can blast Springsteen at unhealthy levels.
Q6 You’ve lost 120 lbs since 2018. What’s the daily food routine now?
Oatmeal with peanut butter, giant salads, grilled chicken, pierogies on cheat days. I still smash an entire bag of Herr’s salt-and-vinegar chips if the Eagles win.
Q7 You box three times a week at a gym in Swissvale. Still sparring full contact?
Light sparring only—doctors would murder me. But I hit the bag like it owes me money. Best therapy there is.
Q8 You’ve got over a hundred tattoos. Which one hurt the worst?
The Braddock zip code 15104 on my left forearm—five straight hours, no breaks. I cried like a baby and went back the next week for more.
Q9 You and Gisele renewed your vows in 2024 on your 16th anniversary. Where’d you do it?
On the roof of the old steel mill at sunset. Kids were ring bearers, minister was our old neighbor. I wore shorts, she wore combat boots. Perfect.
Q10 You’re 6’8″. What’s the most annoying everyday thing about being that tall?
Airplane bathrooms. I have to fold like origami and still hit my head. Also, every photo looks like I’m the dad chaperoning middle-schoolers.
Q11 You still keep a whiteboard in the kitchen with everyone’s chores?
Yep. Karl’s on dishes, Grace feeds the dogs, August’s job is “don’t set anything on fire.” I’m on garbage and emotional support.
Q12 You’ve said steelworkers taught you more than Harvard ever did. Favourite lesson?
“Never trust a man who’s afraid to get dirty.” Still true.
Q13 You’ve got a rescue pit bull mix named Levi. Best dog story?
Levi ate an entire rotisserie chicken off the counter—plastic tray and all—then looked proud. Vet said he’d be fine. Dog’s made of steel like Braddock.
Q14 You still refuse to wear a suit in the Senate. Ever tempted to break the streak?
Only once—when the kids asked if I’d wear one for their school play. I said no, then showed up in a tuxedo T-shirt. Compromise.
Q15 You and Gisele do weekly “no-kids” dates. Where’s the go-to spot?
Dive bar in Homestead called Duke’s. $2 Yuenglings, best jukebox in Pennsylvania. We play Springsteen and pretend we’re 25 again.
Q16 You’ve been sober from alcohol since 2014. Hardest part?
Steelers games. Everyone’s hammered, I’m on Diet Coke number seven, vibrating. But I’d rather feel everything than miss a second with the family.
Q17 You still ride a Harley when the weather’s good?
2005 Road King, matte black. Kids call it “Daddy’s loud bicycle.” Nothing clears the head like 80 mph on a back road.
Q18 You’ve got a scar on your chest from the defibrillator implant. Kids ask about it?
They think it’s a robot button. August keeps trying to press it to “make Daddy fly.”
Q19 One thing you miss about being mayor of Braddock?
Knowing every single person in town. Senate’s big, Braddock was family. I still go back every weekend—someone always needs a hand moving a couch.
Q20 Last one. If 2025 John could say one thing to 2008 Mayor John—just elected, broke city, big dreams—what would it be?
He leans back, takes a long pull of Diet Coke, and grins:
“Keep the hoodie. Keep the faith. The kids are coming, the girl from Brazil is coming, and the heart’s gonna try to kill you—but you’re gonna be fine. Just keep showing up.”
Disclaimer: All answers are compiled and adapted from John Fetterman’s verified interviews, podcasts, and public statements. No fabricated responses have been added.
